Nineteen Years Later
by Wakao
Summary: Nineteen years later and ALL IS WELL. That is, until the new school year starts. A new batch of first years equals to a whole lotta trouble. The older years aren't behaving either.
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello! Thanks for clicking on the link which has led you to this page. This is a big scary project that was supposed to be shouldered by three people but two have abandoned ship and left little ol' me frantically steering in the middle of a snow storm--you get the picture. There are three main OCs (all female) in this so if you hate OCs beyond all reason you'd better hop off at once. It's next gen (if you couldn't tell by the title) so I can't help it with the OC thing. If you're willing to give this a chance (I hope you are) the prologue features the three OCs so that you can get an idea of what they're like and such forth. Okay now read!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Prologue**

"Max, do I look fat in this?"

"Well…"

_Smack. _

"Alright, alright, just kidding!" He laughed. "You look great."

"Don't lie."

Max sighed and said in a defeated manner, "I tried."

"Try harder next time." She put on a stern face.

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted her.

She tried to keep her STARN on, but failed miserably as a giggle escaped.

Max was shocked. "She giggles! Ladies and gentlemen, she _does _have a heart after all! We had suspicions, you see…"

"Max, if you don't stop talking to an imaginary audience you'd better check yourself into St. Mungo's."

"Was that a joke, ladies and gentlemen? I do believe it was! Hell has frozen over-"

"Max," now she sounded irritated. "Enough. Come on, let's go."

With a final look in the mirror, she strode over to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of green powder and threw it into the fireplace. The fire rose up, roaring merrily.

"Diagon Alley!" Fran felt herself being whisked away.

* * *

**RANDOM**

"Nanny, those books over there seem _really _interesting, perhaps I could just…"

"No dear, I was explicitly ordered by your parents, that means under no condition are you to leave my sight or otherwise stray too far without my permission."

"Not even to the loo?"

"I will go with you."

Her ward scrunched her nose in disgust. "I do believe, Nanny, that the cubicle is too small for the both of us."

"Good heavens, child! No more talk of this blasphemy!"

* * *

"What else do you need?"

"Um…" Fran's finger skimmed down her booklist. "I still have to get my schoolbooks. We can buy those from Flourish and Blott's. It's right around the corner."

"Anything else after that? There's this Quidditch shop I want to check out, I heard they have the absolute _latest _in Quidditch supplies."

Fran rolled her eyes; Max and Quidditch, two words that belonged together in the same sentence. Whichever house he got into would be lucky to have him on their team. That is, if Durmstrang _had_ houses. She knew Hogwarts had them, because of her dad's old copy of _Hogwarts; A History_, which she had found absolutely fascinating.

Her heart plummeted. She and Max would be starting at different wizarding schools that year. She suddenly felt the great distance between them, even though he was standing right next to her. She missed him already.

"Don't tell my mother, but I was thinking of getting an owl… they're really useful and all, and-"

"And we could keep in touch by sending letters to each other." He finished. His voice was unusually quiet.

Fran nodded, feeling all of a sudden miserable. It had been a perfectly good day, why did she have to go and ruin it by bringing this up? Why did she always ruin everything?

For the first time since she could remember, there was a silence between them that was not altogether comfortable.

"Well now, no need to get our knickers in a knot," Max declared, breaking the spell of gloom that had hung over them just a second ago. "We weren't best friends all these years by accident, and we jolly well _will _continue to be friends on purpose!"

Fran couldn't help smiling. Why did Max always know the right thing to say? Her smile became a grin as he placed his arm around her shoulder and they walked towards Flourish and Blott's. Nothing could ever come between us two, she thought, before screaming as Max jumped straight into a puddle of water, splashing them both, with Fran reprimanding him loudly afterwards.

* * *

"Hey there, hot hunky-dory fish fillet." The girl drawled and blinked her overly made-up eyes at Max in what Fran supposed she thought was a seductive manner. She must have been what, fifteen? And Max was only eleven, for Merlin's sake. Fran rolled her eyes and made to tug Max away from potential goo-goo eyes mc chicken jelly but Max's feet seemed to have grown roots and he refused to budge.

The girl then proceeded to rhapsodize about Max's outstanding points, namely his way-too-good looks. And Fran, to her dismay, found that on every count she found herself thinking, "Yep, he does have awfully nice eyes, oh and nice hair, oh yes and suspiciously white teeth too!" She could do nothing but glare at the girl with all the hatred she could muster for making her think this way about her best friend. It made her feel all queasy inside.

"Let's go," she muttered to Max. The girl left with a last big smile and before handing a crushed piece of paper with her number on it.

"I… think…. that… _that_… was… my… first… encounter… with… a… girl." Max spoke very slowly, as if he was still in shock. _What am I, a decomposed burger?_ Fran thought irritably, but decided to stand by her friend in his time of need. She plucked the offending piece of paper from his hands and threw it into a nearby rubbish bin.

"Then it's good that you're going to Durmstrang, if they affect you like this."

"I s'pose so."

Somehow, Fran didn't think that he meant it, but she chose not to pursue the subject. She was a bit distracted by the way the sunlight reflected off his hair, revealing streaks of gold in the brown. It was quite a breath-taking effect.

_Stop thinking of him like that!_

_Like what? A _boy_?_

_Yes! It's wrong! I mean, he _is_, but—arrrgghhh!_

She needed pie.

* * *

"Hey Thommy, what's with the 'do?"

"Eh? Eh, ain't nothing much, s'all the rage now, feather." Thomas flipped his ponytail in a somewhat girlish manner and winked at Art, to the obvious consternation of a group of people nearby.

"Is it, whiskey? I don't believe you, coconuts are high in protein!"

"Gummy bear, I fed Santa midnight cookies."

"The temple of Bambooism is the Eighth wonder of the world."

"The cow shouldn't jump over the moon. The spoon is unhealthy."

By now the group of people had moved on down the street, though Art could see them giving Thomas and her peculiar looks.

They burst out laughing, holding onto each other for support.

"Wh-what's next?" Thomas wheezed, clutching his sides.

"Textbooks," Art made a face.

"Oh stitch it; it seems the money to purchase said bookseludes me. What say you we play a round of Zeppelin, feather?"

"'Tis a pity, but I suppose it will do."

Having said that, they plopped down onto the cobblestoned street and Thomas strummed 'Stairway to Heaven' with Art on vocals. This impromptu two-man performance was, nevertheless, met with a moderate amount of enthusiasm by passers-by. Before long they had acquired enough money to buy the required textbooks, plus drop by for ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to go.

* * *

Fran and Max lugged the heavy bag of books out onto the street. With each person holding each side of the bag they just managed to barely lift it. The shop assistant had offered to shrink the bag for them but Fran was skeptical that she would be able to get it back to its normal size, as she claimed she wanted to read up before she started at Hogwarts. A head start on the other students wouldn't hurt, she thought happily.

"How far do you think we can make it?" Max asked, his voice somewhat strained.

"We'll take a break at the corner. Hang in there, once we reach the stone wall we're home free." Fran gave him an encouraging smile.

They struggled past a crowd from which they could hear strains of music; both were too exhausted to even toss a coin to the musicians, which looked to be a young girl and an older man with a ponytail.

"Not…much…further," Fran said cheerfully, which earned a tired smile from Max. She wondered what a strange sight they would make, two eleven-year-olds making their way down the street with a bag overflowing with books between them.

"Here we are!" Both lost no time to let go of the bag, where it fell to the ground with a loud thump. They stumbled into the Leaky Cauldron where a kind old man named Tom immediately offered them a cold glass of water which they gratefully accepted. Fran thought that water had never tasted so good in her life.

* * *

Bloody hell, was all Art could think as she stared at the tray in her hands and the ice cream on the girl's shirt. This was wrong. The ice cream was supposed to be on the tray, not slowly melting on the girl's shirt, which looked very expensive by the way, and dripping down the front.

She officially hated puddles, especially the one she had slipped on, thus getting her into this effing great mess.

Then the shrieking began. And Art had a natural human reaction to this. She clasped her hands over her ears and yelled right along with the girl.

"I can't hear you! I can't hear you!" she chanted, feeling her mouth moving but hearing nothing except a sort of odd buzzing. The girl's mouth went slack in shock as her icy blue eyes widened and Art deemed it safe to her eardrums to remove the protective layer of hand.

Unfortunately, the girl recovered after about a second or so and immediately started barking orders to the… Art wasn't sure _what _it was exactly that was beside the girl, only that it had unusually big floppy ears and was wearing a one-piece rag of a cloth. She immediately felt sorry for it as the girl ordered it to clean up the mess on her shirt and oh, her shirt was ruined forever like yada yada did this girl ever shut up? The… creature just bowed and nodded and nodded as the girl whined on and on.

_Shut up!_ Art wanted to scream. Instead, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She reached into her pocket for her handy-dandy hankerchief (which had saved her life on two occasions) and proceeded to throw it straight at the girl's mouth. Well, actually she was aiming at her shirt but decided that the mouth would be a more satisfying target.

The girl finally shut up, but not for long as she pulled the hankerchief from her mouth and flung it away with a yell of fury, eyes blazing as she lurched towards Art. Art sprung back so that the girl missed her, her fists balled up and ready to fight. She had had plenty of experience fighting back in school, and with opponents twice her size too. She supposed speed did make up for their considerable hulk advantage.

Art and the girl would have commenced an all-out catfight if not for two things happening simultaneously. One, Thomas returning from behind counter (he had been busy counting out the sickles they had received) and two, the creature saying something so softly that Art had to shout, "Pardon?" as the girl's claws (ahhh sharpened fingernails!) came flying towards her.

"Halt! Your friend said something." Art commanded with authority.

"Friend?" The girl sneered. "That's my house elf, you mud blood."

"Oh, is _that _what it is? Anyway, SHUT UP, he's saying something!"

"SHUT UP? I DON'T TH-"

"M-Mistress h-has given me c-clothes."

Art was confused, but the girl got it quicker than she did. She looked torn between wanting to tear Art into little pieces with her razor sharp claws and hitting the house elf.

* * *

Elvy admired herself in the mirror. Well, _mirrors_, actually, for she had had the room fitted with mirrors all around the walls. All the better for getting a three hundred and sixty degree view of her cute behind and not-lacking front.

She even tried on various faces in the mirror, before settling on a pout that she thought best showed off her large brown eyes and damn straight nose.

After practicing her catwalk for thirty-five minutes she deemed herself ready to head downstairs for breakfast. She looked in distaste at her outfits strewn on the marble flooring, a result of her inability to choose the _just perfect _outfit to show up at breakfast in.

She snapped her fingers, adding a sprinkle of attitude just 'cos she felt like it.

With a loud _crack! _A house elf promptly appeared.

"Darling, _do _be a dear and clean up this mess." Elvy purred as she flipped her hair and strut out the door, not sparing a glance back.

Perhaps she would have a carrot stick, but she was watching her diet.

* * *

The pink or the white? That was the question.

Elvy knew that the right accessory could make or break an outfit. It was all about the details.

"_Mon cherie_, what is your opinion?" Amato Marchetta, big-name designer in the fashion world and all-around hunk, enquired Elvy's thoughts on the matter. He gestured to the two willowy models by his side, dressed in his latest design.

There were several reasons a designer of his caliber would be asking an eleven-year-old her opinion on such things. One, she surpassed him in style and fashion sense, or…

"Well, it's all a bit _off_, if you know what I mean, papa. I suggest going with the grey beret, which would be _too _darling!"

…she was his daughter.

"Now tell me papa, which should I wear tomorrow? The pink or the white hair band? I'm in _such _a dilemma!"

A/N: REVIEW! I accept anything.


	2. Chapter One

A/N: & so it officially starts...

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Chapter One**

The trolley lady was missing.

"No, actually, she's up front talking to the conductor," Lauren informed them helpfully. "As for me, I'm making sure no one steals the sweets." She shot him a meaningful look.

_No one asked_, Daryl thought irritably.

"That's great, but we only need a couple of chocolate frogs. We'll leave the money with you and you can give it to her later." Marty said pleasantly.

Lauren looked unconvinced. "No can do," she said smugly, crossing her arms.

Daryl glared at her. "I don't see why not. She gets paid and we get our chocolate frogs."

"I'm sorry, but I really can't. You can wait a while, can't you?"

"No, we can't." Daryl said stubbornly.

"Well then, you'll have to." Lauren snapped. "I'm not selling them to you, so you can both stand there and wait or buy them when the trolley lady comes by just like everyone else."

Daryl felt like pulling his hair out in frustration. "But we come here every year and she sells it to us just fine!"

"_Unluckily_ for you, this year she left me in charge." Lauren boomed, her face twisting unattractively.

Yikes, she was scary when she wanted to be.

"No problem, I'll wait here." Marty cut in quickly. He shot a glance at Daryl which clearly meant, 'She's gonna blow her top soon. Disappear _now_.'

"I'll get us a compartment." Daryl said, deliberately not looking at Lauren.

He started up the Hogwarts Express, fuming. To compound his lovely mood that day, all the compartments were either full or occupied by a couple of first years. Daryl Jones, share a compartment with first years? The idea sounded absurd even in his mind. The only time he had done that was when he himself was a first year.

Finally he spotted one that looked to be empty. His mood lifted for a moment before crashing down again at the sight of… of a first year occupying the compartment. She was hunched up in a corner reading a book, so it was no wonder he hadn't see her.

_Damn…what am I gonna do now? This is all Lauren's fault!_ He seriously felt like hitting something at that instant. He glanced up and down the corridor. There was no one in the vicinity. Normally, Daryl wouldn't be caught dead doing this but… well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He slumped to the ground.

Niles would throw a fit if he saw what Daryl was doing to his carefully-ironed and previously wrinkle-free clothes. But Daryl dismissed that thought, as more important matters were at hand.

It was time for what had made the sorting hat put him in Ravenclaw to kick in. _Think, Daryl, think. _

He glanced at the empty corridor again. _Everyone is in their compartments. Except Marty and _her_, but they don't count. Right. Everyone is in their compartments, therefore the compartments are full. Everyone is _out _of their compartments, therefore the compartments are empty. What would make them come out? The trolley lady. _Instantly his mind flashed back to chocolate frogs. _Argh! Okay, other than that. Chaos, disruption, something that causes a crowd to gather…how about a first year being bullied?_

Well, he had never actually _bullied _a first year before. He preferred to stay well away from them. It was best not to associate with inferior minds and lowly intellectuals.

He just wanted to draw a crowd, not do something completely against the rules. He had no desire for a detention, something foreign and downright degrading to him. _Right…so I'll shake her up a bit, make enough noise to draw a crowd, and then saunter out as they part for me, before heading straight into an empty compartment. _He had not consciously picked the first year in the compartment behind him as his first victim, but he figured it was more convenient that way.

Standing up, he studied himself carefully. Did he look like a bully? He mussed his hair up a bit more, making it stick out at odd angles. He loosened his tie, untied his shoelaces (on second thought, no, he might trip and wouldn't _that _be embarrassing), tied his shoelaces, unbuttoned his shirt and put on what he hoped was an intimidating face. _Now, practice walking like a guy not to be messed with. _He hunched his shoulders, looked grouchy and started walking with a limp. _Ah…that should do it. _

Resisting the urge to straighten his tie, he placed one hand on the door handle. _Here goes. _

"BANG!" He stormed in, momentarily forgetting about his supposed limp. He was taken aback when the girl did not even look up. _Did she not hear me? _He limped over to her. Her head was bent over the book on her lap, brown locks hiding her face from view. For a moment his bookish side took over and he wondered what book she was reading, for her to be so engrossed in it. And then like a mental slap he remembered what he was there for.

_Grab the book, yes grab the book! _He grabbed the book and threw it into a corner. He could see the girl stiffen and she looked up at him. Her wide brown eyes were filled with terror, until she looked back down quickly, afraid to meet his eyes. A wave of uncertainty washed over him. For a moment he wasn't sure he could go through with it.

He glanced towards the door. A dozen curious eyes peered in at them. Daryl took a step towards them and, quick as a blink, they disappeared from sight. This wasn't working well at all. He needed them to be so stunned that he would walk out and they would linger there, wondering what had just happened. He gritted his teeth. He would finish what he had started.

"Hey, first year." Daryl started. She remained frozen on the seat. Had she even heard him? He tried again. "First year, I'm talking to you."

"First year, it's rude to disrespect your elders," Hmmm, no, that hadn't come out right. _Be more threatening, more threats!_ "You know what I can do, first year?" At that point he decided if he kept calling her 'first year' it was going to sound ridiculous before long.

He leaned close. "Hey, what's your name?" he whispered in the general direction of her ear. The noise outside the door increased. They probably thought he was going to rape her or something.

She remained silent for a moment, and then he heard it--a fragile, trembling voice--, "Fran."

"Fran!" he exclaimed, straightening his back. Ouch, that was starting to hurt. Oh, the perils of being a bully.

"Fran, do you know what you are?" he gave the customary pause, "_you _are a first year, and in my book that means that you're even lower than a flobberworm, a monkey, or a-" Wait, what was that? Did he hear a giggle? Someone outside was _giggling _at him. _No one _giggled at Daryl Jones!

Everyone took him in deadly earnest because he was top of his house, top of his year even. Every word he said was like a priceless gem dropping from his lips. Well… to everyone except a certain redhead. And that only because she was an intransigent vegetarian while he, a fervent meat-lover. But he digressed. _It's time to step it up a bit. Okay, a lot. _

"Or a mudblood." He finished. Fran looked up suddenly, and he saw a flash of pure anger in her eyes, but was distracted by the fact that _his hair was on fire. _"Argh!" he yelled, swatting at it with his hands, which seemed to only make it worse. "Put it out!" he yelled, cursing the fact that Fran seemed disinclined to do much of anything.

"_Aguamenti!_"

That was weird. He thought he heard the water spell. But they didn't learn that until sixth yea- _Splash!_

Daryl felt the water drip from his hair and seep into his robes. In short, he was drenched to the bone.

Laughter rang out from the other side of the door. _Oh no…no you don't._

He lost it right then and there. "Why, you-!" he strode towards her, but was halted by a new voice.

"I suggest you rethink that." The girl in the doorway said. She was abnormally short, even for a first year, and she was holding a guitar in one hand. Her other fist was clenched as she gestured it at him threateningly. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

The words came out of his mouth even before he registered them. "I guess that rules you out then."

Instantly, a cat he hadn't noticed before jumped out from behind her and hissed at him, baring its teeth. To be honest, he was torn between amusement and the need to save his fast crumbling reputation.

Thankfully, Marty chose this moment to appear.

"What's going on?" Marty surveyed the chaos. "Oh."

"Oh indeed." Daryl muttered, pulling at his ruined clothes. He took out his wand and cast a drying spell on them. _There, much better._ _Oh, and the hair too._

Marty leaned closer. "So, um, is this how you planned on getting us a compartment?" he asked.

"Actually… yes it is." Daryl felt a grin spread across his face. So there _was _a bright side after all!

Cat girl placed a hand on her hip and glared.

"Right…" Marty said doubtfully. "Come on, let's go. I saw loads of empty compartments on the way here."

Daryl couldn't resist. "I'll be back," he informed them ominously, before leaving with a swish of his robes.

It was just as he had imagined; the crowd parted for them like the red sea for Moses, and it was a cinch finding an empty compartment. So all in all, Daryl considered this a successful venture, minus the humiliation of being drenched by a first year or being hissed at by a clearly deranged cat (not to mention owner).

"Chocolate frog?" Marty offered.

"Nothing better," Daryl grinned.

* * *

Robin scowled and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I don't believe this." She said. "Look at them, they're totally destroyed!"

"No Robbie, they look gorgeous." Juliet hastened to placate her. They splayed their fingers beside each others for comparison. It was true; Robin's long, slender fingers looked better than Juliet's short, stumpy ones, no matter how chipped the nail polish had gotten.

"You don't count," Robin said dismissively. She took out her wand and tapped the offending nails. "_Disappearo_," she muttered, and the nail polish disappeared (self-explanatory). She would have to go nude for now, but she was certainly going to splash a new coat on the moment they got back to their dorms. For now though, they were due in the Great Hall for the sorting.

"Follow me," she ordered, and strut into the Great Hall.

Thirty minutes later…

"Yawn." Robin said, rather loudly, earning her a glare from a Professor.

Juliet giggled.

It was the middle of the sorting, and Robin was glad it took place only once a year. There had been no names of any interest this year, except the next heir to the Malfoy fortune, who looked kind of like his father, and yet not. His whole demeanor was different, which for Robin just translated to: ZERO POTENTIAL.

"Marchetta, Elvira."

Now that made her sit up and take notice. Of course she knew that the most genius, _brilliant_, not to mention sizzling hot designer had a daughter. But no one had told her she was a witch!

"What are you smiling about, Robbie?" Juliet asked.

"Nothing." Robin replied, crossing her arms.

The thought that Robin had the strangest smile on her face drifted across Juliet's mind, before being replaced by a craving for cupcakes.

* * *

"Potter, Albus."

The Gryffindor table cheered as Albus walked towards the Sorting Hat.

Even after all those years, Hogwarts still used the same system of sorting students. The Sorting Hat looked more tattered than ever, and it had a tendency to forget the lyrics right in the middle of a song, which naturally left the new students very confused.

"Go, Al!" Rose cheered from the line of first-years, and then blushed as several heads swiveled towards her.

Al Potter resisted the urge to throw up (even though he had not eaten much on the train, really) and concentrated on going up the steps without tripping and making a fool of himself in front of the whole school.

Truth be told, it was a relief when he sat down on the stool. For a second he could see everyone's eyes focused on him, before his view was blocked by McGonagall placing the hat on his head. The hat was so big… and floppy that it went halfway down his nose.

_Silence…_

"Um… hello?" he ventured.

_Oh yes! My boy! Sorry, I dozed off for a second. Getting old, getting old… Forgive me, young man._

"Um, sure." Al said. His father _had _mentioned that the hat had been there since the beginning of Hogwarts, and that was, to Al, _ancient._

_Now what have we here?_

Al had the sudden uncomfortable feeling of someone digging into his mind.

He tried valiantly to push the unsettling imagery from his head.

_Ha ha, interesting mind you have here! Just like your dad, you are. _

Al beamed, proud to be compared to his father.

_Ooh, but what's this here? You have cunning, young man. Know how to get yourself out of trouble, do you?_

Uh-oh. Alarm bells started going off in Al's head.

_Silence…_

"Um, hat?"

_You would do well in… _

"_SLYTHERIN!"_

The hat yelled the last word out.

Al froze, unable to believe his ears.

The hall was so quiet you could hear a flobberworm munch lettuce.

Light flooded into his eyes as Professor McGonagall removed the hat from his head. He looked at her pleadingly, but she refused to meet his eyes, her lips set in a grim line.

He saw fear, surprise, indifferent faces and faces with contradicting emotions darting over them.

Somehow he managed to get up shakily and make his way down the steps.

He had to pass the Gryffindor table to get to his new House.

"Pataki, Reggie." McGonagall finally said.

The hushed silence was broken and conversation flowed once again.

He averted his eyes when the hat yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!" for Rose.

* * *

Peeves was peeved that all the other ghosts were at dinner while he was left to wander Hogwarts' hallowed halls.

McGonagall had banned him from attending the feast a hundred years ago (yes the old bat was _that _old). Then Peeves did a very dangerous thing. He began to think.

'I'm bored!' were his exact thoughts.

You don't want to be around when Peeves gets bored.

Let's just say, there were screams in the night.

A/N: A tear. That was my first 'second chapter'. :) Review, I accept anything.


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: I've been missing for the longest time. My thumbdrive crashed so I'm sure you understand. Anyway happily my dad made a backup for me way back in August.

**Chapter Two**

She was in love.

The library was all she had imagined and more. The thousands of books neatly stacked on shelves, the various round tables with red velvet chairs dotted throughout the library, and of course, the librarian's occasional shouts of, "Hey! Keep that down will you?"

Fran didn't know where to start. There were so many books, all the knowledge in the world laid out before her, right at her fingertips. She trailed her finger along the various book's titles, relishing the feel of the books' spines. She sniffed the air. Oh, how she longed to smell that old, bookish smell. _Sniff. _She could smell… strawberries and cream with just a dash of cinnamon! Suddenly she felt like eating strawberry shortcake.

The smell grew stronger. She turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of a figure dressed all in pink. _I'd wager that was Elvira. _She shrugged, disinclined to seek her out, for that was not the way of the Fran_. _She continued along the aisle, though barely glancing at the book titles. She _did _have seven years to borrow all of them, after all. _That's right, no hurry. _For now, she just wanted to… be. How Zen-like!

_CRASH! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! _

The sound disrupted her Zen-like state. It came from the end of the aisle where she had just come from. More specifically, where she had seen Elvira headed. And if she knew anything about that girl, it was that Elvira would probably be wearing six-inch stiletto heels. And that the crash could not have been anything good, because it had sounded like several other possibly leather-bound carefully-preserved possibly-worth-millions objects had caused the various thuds.

Fran sprinted towards the crash site.

A curious sight greeted her. Elvira was sprawled on the floor of the library, possibly with a broken nose, and books were scattered everywhere. Without hesitation, Fran hastened to tend to the books. _Oh dear, not the books, anything but the books! _She was faintly aware of Elvira groaning and muttering something about a broken heel, but was too absorbed in making sure that the books were not torn, or, god forbid, irreparably damaged. Just when she thought she had about gotten all of them, she spotted one more.

She reached down to pick it up… at the same time she saw another set of slender fingers grasp the book. Fran felt her gaze travel upwards slowly, only to settle on the most beautiful pair of brown eyes she had ever seen, framed by long, black lashes. Followed by the most adorable smile she had ever had the good fortune to lay eyes upon.

"Hi, I'm Chase Williams," The heavenly being chose to bless her with its deep, warm voice.

"H-hi," she managed to stammer out, before she blushed a deep, crimson red. "I'm Francesca Milan."

"Nice to meet you," Chase smiled, pushing his glasses up a bit. Fran almost melted; it was so adorable.

They were _**so close**_; she could drown in those pools of molten chocolate forever…

"Ahem," a voice interjected rudely. They both looked over to where a very flustered Elvira was clambering up from the ground.

Fran could not help but feel a bit (okay, a whole lot) disappointed when Chase stepped away from her to offer a hand to Elvira, who pointedly ignored it and huffed a bit.

Fran glared as Elvira turned to face her.

Elvira seemed not to notice the hostility, however. "Fran, right? We met on the train." She flashed one of her smiles, ignoring Chase completely. He was still standing a bit off to the side, part of their group, and yet not. Fran desperately wanted to include him.

"Yeah we did," she said loudly, loud enough for Chase to hear, "I was looking for the Music Room but I ended up here instead. It's so confusing, this BIG, SCARY castle!"

"You're first years?" Chase asked, sounding interested.

Fran nodded eagerly. _Come on, now. _Beside her, she heard Elvy snort.

"Well, why don't I give you a tour of the castle? We older years should show the newbies around."

_Yes! _"Really? That would be- "

"-unnecessary, thanks, we can very well find our _own _way around." Elvy cut in, crossing her arms.

Fran glared at her.

"Oh, I insist-"

"GOODBYE CHASE, NICE MEETING YOU, WE MUST RUSH, TOODLES!" Elvira declared, putting and arm around Fran's shoulders and steering her out of the library, Fran still carrying the stack of books which was really starting to feel quite heavy.

She did manage, however, to shoot one last look at Chase Williams, who was staring after them with a sort of bewildered look on his face.

She was in love.

* * *

From behind a bookcase, Robin snickered. Oh, she had big plans for that Marchetta girl, whom, she might add, had a lot to learn about using the oops-I-fell-down-cute-stranger-help-me-pick-up-my-books technique to acquire guys. She used the word 'acquire' because to her, collecting boys were like a hobby, though, she reflected, they _could _be rather troublesome sometimes. Honestly, if she had a sickle for every time one of them used the same pick-up line on her…

* * *

Elvy continued to chat non-stop as they made their way down to the Entrance Hall.

Fran nodded and smiled, but she was hardly listening. Could you blame her? Her mind was filled with images of Chase, Chase Williams.

"Chase," she whispered, practicing his name. She felt a thrill go through her.

"What was that?" Elvy snapped. "Never mind. I heard there's a big party by the lake going on. _Everyone _is skinny dippin'! Come on!"

"Chase," was all Fran could say.

Then again, Elvy didn't seem to hear her.

Just as they reached the entrance hall, the door was pushed open by none other than cat girl, whom they now knew as Art, as she had introduced herself the day before.

"_Everyone _is skinny dipping! Don't go out there!" She yelled as she saw them, flinging her arms out and blocking their way. "Unless you want your mind to be scarred forever."

Elvy let out a disbelieving laugh. "Don't be silly, skinny dipping is a great way to meet guys."

Art shot Fran a look that said, "What the hell is wrong with her?!" as Elvy pushed past her and disappeared behind the door.

Fran simply shrugged. "Chase," she said, by way of explanation.

"You're mad. You're all mad!" was all Art could say as she made her way into the Great Hall for some breakfast (seeing as she had thrown up earlier at the amount of nudity). Din leapt behind her.

This left Fran standing all alone clutching a huge stack of books with nowhere to go.

The love she had for books receded ever so slightly; as something else entirely flowed into the space in her heart that had made room for Chase.

* * *

Daryl rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was falling asleep on his textbooks, and if Marty was to be trusted, he drooled when he slept.

Daryl had had a rough night. He had just crawled into bed with a satisfyingly full tummy when—WHAM! He found himself on the cold hard floor. If he didn't know better he'd think the universe was conspiring against him, what with his burnt hair and bed turning upside down to topple him all on the same day.

He did know better though, and decided that he would rather blame it on something in closer proximity and more tangible than 'life, the universe and everything'.

There was a commotion in the library. He managed to open his eyes for the whole of two seconds before his brain gave up and drifted him forcibly into a peaceful sleep.

As such, her name was on the tip of his tongue when he woke up. "Fran," he growled, clenching his fist. The butterflies from his dream rearranged themselves in his minds' eye to form the word 'REVENGE'.

Daryl looked down. Oh crap. He had drooled on his text.

* * *

It was the first day of term, and already Gryffindor was having one of their famous parties. Butterbeer flowed freely, courtesy of the Marauders.

"Cheers!" James Potter roared, clinking his glass with Freddie's.

"You're in a good mood today," Freddie chuckled. James nodded, gulping down his firewhiskey and feeling the liquid travel swiftly down his throat like spit fire. While the rest of the house got butterbeer, James and Freddie kept the best for themselves. They justified it by saying they didn't want the first years to get drunk on their first night at Hogwarts; plenty of time for that later.

"Stinkin' brother of mine got into Slytherin. I should owl Mom and Dad—then we can all celebrate." James said, reaching for more alcohol.

Freddie laughed. "That little cousin of yours doesn't seem to agree."

Rose Weasley stood by the portrait hole; arms crossed tightly, a thoroughly disapproving look on her face as she eyed the mass number of drunken students. James snorted. "That one, that one ought to lighten up." He was starting to slur his words now. He lifted his sleeve, where a small green snake curled around his arm. It could have been mistaken for a tattoo, if it hadn't raised its head and hissed at James.

"How ya doin', Bean?" James asked, yanking it from his arm and dunking it in some butterbeer. Freddie watched mutely; he was used to James abusing his snake. James' dad had given it to him when he was a first year.

Bean's glittery eyes stared up at James through the dirty glass, looking reproachful.

"Wished you were with Albus, do ya? So you can have one of your little chats, eh?" James spat. "Hiss hiss hiss, that's all he can do. No wonder he's in Slytherin!"

Bean bared his tiny, pointed fangs. A snake can always tell who its enemies are.

* * *

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

He paused, not sure how to go on. Would they be sad? Angry? Disappointed? It all felt like a bad dream. This was playing out exactly like one of his nightmares, except, well, this was reality.

He lay on his silver and green bedspread in his dormitory adorned with silver and green decorations. "Slytherin," he whispered. The word felt alien on his tongue.

_If James hasn't told you yet, I'm in Slytherin._

James, his older brother, treated him like how all older brothers are supposed to treat their younger brothers. Like dirt.

Al's earliest memory was of James holding him down, his throat was tight and he couldn't breathe, he struggled and screamed and lake water rushed into his mouth and down his throat, into his lungs…

He was still afraid of water.

_Don't worry,_

Because he figured they would.

_the food here is great and the people are nice. Scorpius Malfoy is also in Slytherin._

Right beside him, actually.

If the loud snores on the bed next to him were any indication, the little Malfoy was sleeping soundly. The curtains were drawn around him so Al couldn't see him.

He had always wondered what a Malfoy looked like when they were sleeping, since he had heard the stories of their horrific deeds and how mean and evil they were (mostly from James). But Scorpius was a small, pale boy who had hardly a word to say all through dinner and who had gone straight to bed. The others had all gone downstairs to the common room.

_Rose got into Gryffindor._

He liked his cousin Rose, who was like a miniature version of his Aunt Hermione, except with red hair. They got along most of the time. She helped him with his homework; although Al wasn't sure how willing she would be now that he was in Slytherin.

He fought back a yawn and decided to end his letter off abruptly.

_Love,_

_A.S.P_

The irony of his name was not lost on him.

"Giwdeh," He called softly. A small but determined looking owl landed on his table silently. He fed her the bit of toast he had snuck up before attaching the letter to her leg, watching as she disappeared into the dark, dark night.

A/N: Review! I accept anything.


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